Floridians in Winter: Unsung Heroes

Tragedy 

Note: All photos are real and were taken to document the horror in Jacksonville on January 4, 2014.

Heroes are made not born. Well, I suppose they are born too, and then made, but that doesn't make them any less awesome. A hero's awesomeness rests mostly in the fact that they have overcome great odds and probably dealt with skeptics right out of the gate. Heroic Justin Bieber can't sing or dance or pull up his pants, yet he became an inspirational superstar to friendless middle-schoolers everywhere. Sadly his star burned so brightly that haters tripped over themselves to knock him down. Now that he has (in no way at all fake) retired, now that his squeaky voice has been taken away from the world, I think we can all see the shame in focusing on his spitting at fans, proclivity for prostitutes or his spraying graffiti on the hotels that he graces.

Others are simply heroic for overcoming incredible odds. Rescued fighting dogs, Corey Feldman and Jerry Springer (pulled himself up from the humble beginings of being the Mayor of Chicago all the way to hosting his own carnival) serve to remind us that we too can be great given the right circumstances (not powerball winners though, they just piss us off). None of them get the recognition that they deserve but are all around us and all inspirational. 

The grimace of death

Finally, there are those heroes are inspire us just by making it through. Cancer survivors, conjoined twins and Floridians in the winter. These are the folks that survive when no one else could, these are our real-life Katnisses and Petas. But sadly, they get little love and even less respect. 

And That Stops Here!

As a survivor myself (but not of cancer or of being born attached to my sister), I face the ridicule of skeptics and am incredibly even the butt of jokes. The cruel irony is that where compassion and admiration would be normal, our state-wide struggle can often bring out the very worst in society. We don't want your charity but keep your comments muffled under your scarves (scarfs?) You know, those things that look like a strip of blanket.

All the coats in the whole state

I am guessing that many of you Northies have already skipped to the comment section and let me cut you short there. "But our winter is way colder" is voodoo math and I see right through it. Arbitrary measurements like "temperature" can all be manipulated to argue any point.

Water freezes at 32 degrees. No wait, 0 degrees- I don't need to say anymore.

We all deal in our own way

Our suffering stems from the fact that even though we get warning of these freeze-outs, we can't possibly be expected to handle the pure brutality of the assault. No matter how many t-shirts you layer, it's still no match to the Canadian air. Picture the pure panic of trying to find the heat button in your car, or even socks. This morning I discovered that my office has never had heat. I had no choice but to button up my polo and bunker down. The truth is that although some (all) other parts of the country may experience "harsher" winters, you all signed up for it! We accept hurricanes and cockroaches but the deal is: No Arctic blasts. 

In 2013, Floridians suffered 13 shark attacks and nobody took notice. But you can be sure that the next time a guy from Binghamton gets attacked, the whole country will lose its collective mind. That's because living in upstate NY has that one perk and we all accept that. 

So soldier on my unloved, unsung and unwarm state-mates. Your heroism is an inspiration to a Nation and a true testament to the American spirit. 

New Year Fatty

I am a Fatty. I don't want to be a fatty, but I am. My 4 year old daughter chants, "His name is Daddy, and he's a Fatty!" whenever she's in the mood for convulsive laughter. Clearly my secret isn't so secret. My few friends who are heavier than me are not even close to being Fattys because being "fat" isn't the only qualification to being a Fatty. Nope it's truly a whole mindset.

My permanent status as a member of the Fatty Club has been developed through some simple steps for you all to follow at home:

1- Self Image: Here are the type of people that I have exposure to on a weekly basis in order by quantity:

Seriously?

• Scrawny middle school and younger children. Kids by nature are twiggy but if they swim every day, they have a negative body fat and are see-through.
• National level high school athletes. Take a scrawny kid and now add muscle. I recently had a pull-up contest against a high school kid with the stipulation being that he had to weigh the same as me. Watching him try to do pull-ups with a 45 lb weight strapped to his waist was freakin' great for the self-image.
• Masters swimmers. These are people mostly in their 40s and 50s who are swimming to try and get their Ironman times faster. Enough said.
• My wife- She had a meltdown when she hit 127 pregnant. Side note- for those of you looking for marriage advice, posting info on the web about your wife's weight...not great.

Stock photo right? Ah nope,
that's really them.

But the good news is, I took a little break for Christmas and got to spend time with my anorexic in-laws and 2 models. So that was fun too.

2- Gain weight despite the odds: My wife is responsible for 90% of my diet and the fact that I can still gain weight is a true testament to my determination. For starters, white flour, nitrates, nitrites, pesticides, fat, high fructose corn syrup, refined sugars and artificial ingredients are not allowed through the door. Secondly, everything that we eat is locally grown and well treated. If we do get a piece of meat, it's been lovingly caressed by a hippy farmer its whole life and died of old age. Yesterday I guilted her into adding ground organic never-scolded beef to her egg-plant chili. In fact the closest we came to divorce this year was when she discovered that one of my friends had bought me a grilled cheese, pulled pork, macaroni and cheese, sandwich. 

3- Maintain a exercise routine designed by a lunatic: I pretty much operate on a 10% professional athlete 90% coma schedule. I'm an exercise bulimia sufferer where I binge for a couple of days and then purge my body of all that silliness for a couple of weeks. I find this one step forward and three steps back approach really keeps me solidly not solid. 

Evil

Enter the Fitbit. For those of you who aren't aware, this is a pedometer that you wear on your wrist that counts your steps, your flights of stairs, your sleep patterns, your water intake and other stuff that I haven't bothered to check. It's like having a little mother-in-law with you at all times (mine is in absurdly good shape of course). Further more, your stats are public knowledge for all the non-Fattys in your life to make fun of. So I now live in terror of letting my Fitbit down. I go to bed most nights exhausted and ready to vomit from the 64 ounces of water that I had to drink right before going to bed. And in fully predictable Fatty style, I have shot out of the gate like my ass is on fire trying to escape my Fattyness all in six days. I'm currently leading my Fitbit friends in steps taken but that has, oh, zero percent chance of holding. 

So 2014 has started with me sweaty and with only one real hope; that my Fitbit will miraculously break before I do.